Olympic Peninsula University of Twilight Fanfic
by nidhogg
Summary: A fic in the same vein as OFUM and HFA:  a university for fanfiction writers set in Steph Meyer's wonderful world.
1. A Bipolar Teen and a Squeeing Fangirl

**The ****Olympic Peninsula University of **_**Twilight**_** Fanfiction **

Author's Note and Disclaimer: Before I start, I think some bowing and scraping is in order. First of all, to the wonderful Miss Cam, who wrote the original and the best: OFUM. I realize that I, who have never written fanfic before, am about to embark on a journey through interfic. Oh dear.

But back to the acknowledgements: _Twilight_ belongs to Stephenie Meyer, a writer whose shoes I am not fit to wipe; the PPC (when mentioned) belongs to Jay and Acacia; references to HFA belong to Meir Brin; references to the _Lord of the Rings_ book and _Lord of the Rings_ movie belong to the Tolkien Estate and Peter Jackson/New Line Cinema respectively; the _Harry Potter_ universe and associated characters belong to J. K. Rowling and whoever else has sunk their teeth into the poor wizard by now; _Naruto_ belongs to Masashi Kishimoto and he's welcome to it – I'm holding a lifelong grudge against anime; and any other characters you recognize belong to their respective authors or creators. I am far too lazy to list them all here.

My own characters belong to me and me alone (it's mine…my ownnn…my precioussssssss…) and anyone caught tampering with them – although I don't see why you'd want to – will be dunked in a combination of Urple, Blello, Wilver and Opreen paint and slow-roasted.

And lastly, many thanks to my lovely beta Charlotte for her suggestions and corrections. Your work is muchly appreciated.

Chapter 1: A Bipolar Teen and a Squeeing Fangirl

Two young girls stood squinting in the bright morning sun, blinking at a set of ornate steel gates with "OPUTF" emblazoned in gold at the top. One girl looked around 17, with brown hair and porcelain skin. The other, shorter, girl looked barely fourteen, though the expression of sadistic glee she wore seemed out of place on her childish features. She pushed her wild dark hair out of her face and turned to the older girl, whose shell-shocked expression had not changed.

"Good, innit?" She asked, in a broad Aussie accent. "They've just finished the main building. All we've got to do now is start protecting the staff quarters, get the classes organized and start enrolling." Her face became progressively more stressed as she listed the gargantuan tasks yet to be completed. Sure, it didn't sound like a whole lot, but running a university sounds a lot easier when it isn't you doing it.

The older girl had snapped out of her trance. "But, Vi…" she began in a soft voice, sounding vaguely worried. She didn't get to finish. The younger girl's eyes were blazing.

"Never call me "Vi"." The adolescent girl spat the name "Vi" out like it was something the dog had done.

"Call me Violet, Miss Violet, Miss Gawyn…but _never_ call me Vi." Her face was furious, but her expression softened minutely as she saw the older edging away slowly.

"Sorry, Bella," she sighed, smiling apologetically. "But I do hate "Vi". And I am a little on edge."

Bella relaxed, returning Violet's tired smile. She began again.

"I understand completely. With a name like Isabella…" she grimaced. "How soon do you expect to open the school?"

"I was hoping a month would be sufficient. But the sooner we get this underway, the sooner we can torture the fangirls." Violet's manic smile was back with a vengeance, and her partner's eyes were bright with fervour.

In a galaxy far, far away, someone was typing. Actually, approximately 26, 000,000 people were typing, but they are not important. However, one girl, sitting in a small flat in Sydney, Australia, was typing a story that would change her life.

"…and so then edawrd went to featherbloom miststar and says, i luv u, will u b my wife adn bella was rilly jelos so she slapped featherbloom. so edwrad slappd her, then he went off wit feathrbloom an they gor marrid. teh end. a/n plz r&r!!!!! I luvd writin it, u no u luvd redin it n if u r sum stuk up person that talks lik a techer, u suk an fuk off!!1!1! cuz I luv edwud n he is my b/f 4eva!!1!!"

Sighing with pleasure, Sam posted the fic. Why did have so many forms you had to fill out before you could post, she wondered? They took up so much of the time that she could have spent writing more Edward/Featherbloom Miststar fics. Featherbloom Miststar, incidentally, was also her screen name, her reasoning being that no-one would read a fic written by someone called Samantha Haddey. You had to show you had imagination, and then before you knew it you would be absolutely _bathing _in good reviews.

The story that she had just posted was in fact part of a series called "Eddie's New Luv", a string of fanfics about Edward Cullen that involved him meeting Featherbloom, finding out that she was a vampire, finding out that she was the most beautiful vampire ever to roam the earth, dumping Bella and, lastly, marrying Featherbloom. This last instalment was the thirteenth story. Someone should have told Sam that 13 was unlucky.

Violet Gawyn was not a very patient person. Unfortunately, she was also not a very organized person, which meant that she spent approximately one third of the time cocking things up, one third of the time fixing up the cock-ups and one third of the time complaining about all the cock-ups.

For a change, however, things were going right. The construction of OPUTF (officially known as the Olympic Peninsula University of _Twilight_ fanfiction) had finished, the canon characters/teachers were all on board and willing to contribute their powers and evil to sort out the fangirl menace, and enrolments were coming along just brilliantly. In short, life was good.

Violet stood proudly in the hallway of the university, her greatest achievement to date. Maybe it wasn't as big a building as OFUM or HFA, but then again _Twilight_ was a much smaller fandom – only about a fiftieth the size of _Harry Potter_. For the canon characters, however, _Twilight _was quite well-known enough thank-you-very-much. If some of the more voracious fangirls were to sink their teeth into a book that was not only much easier to read than _Lord of the Rings_, but which had immortal, beautiful creatures as its main characters, Violet shuddered to imagine the consequences.

"How's the staff section coming along?" she enquired of a passing Cliché. They were curious things, these Clichés. When they'd popped up a few weeks back due to an influx of stories with the same plots, same "twists" and, dare she say it, same Sues, she'd been more than a touch worried. So far, though, they seemed to cause no trouble other than the occasional _deus ex machina_ lying around; and, since they were very industrious workers, she was loath to send them away.

"Excellently, miss," the Cliché replied, bowing. "The charms that you borrowed from HFA are in place, and we have specially trained guards patrolling."

"Trained how, exactly?" Violet groaned inwardly. She was sure that the Clichés had trained well, but she often wished that, like OFUM or indeed every other fanfiction university to be created, they had been gifted with minis. Little blue chibi-like things patrolling were not going to scare a paranoid mouse.

The little Cliché leader seemed to feel the same way. Half-heartedly, he went on.

"Basic weapons training, martial arts…oh, and," his face lit up, "We also carry pepper spray laced with Opreen paint."

Opreen was a combination (in the worst way) of orange, green and purple. It had turned up at about the same time as the Clichés, and Violet wasn't entirely sure that they hadn't brought it themselves. Certainly, they were the only creatures that could look on it without their eyes bleeding. She was, for the minute, willing to overlook the colour's odiousness: if Opreen couldn't keep the fangirls away, nothing could. Talking of fangirls…she turned back to the Cliché.

"Oh, and by the way, send word up to Mike and Jessica at enrolment and tell them to look out for a Samantha Haddey. Apparently she's one of the worst we've seen so far. In fact," she continued, frowning slightly, "Ask them to notify me when they've located her. I want to do this one in person."

"Will do, miss." The little blue blob bobbed off into the crowd of maintenance men, other Clichés and canon and non-canon staff.

Sam logged on to her computer and checked her reviews. As she waited for the page to load, she absent-mindedly picked up a copy of _Twilight_ and glanced at it. She had been given it for her birthday by her mother, who was trying to encourage her to read more "proper fiction". Apparently, two hours on gawping at Harry/Draco slash wasn't enough to constitute reading, and Sam's suggestion that reading print-offs of the fics was the same idea had been met with stony disapproval by her mother. As it happened, however, _Twilight_ had been the best thing (in terms of fanfic) that had ever happened to her. Not, of course, that Sam had ever bothered to read the whole of the book: she had considered it, then decided that it would be bowing to her mother's will. She had looked at the blurb and flicked to the character descriptions and romance scenes, then begun to write her own fics. The rest of her knowledge she had picked up from the other fanfiction she had read, as well as a couple of reviews. Much easier than reading a whole 360ish-page book.

The page finally loaded and Sam grinned excitedly. Six new reviews! She had been right in imagining that this would be the most popular instalment yet. Sam scrolled down, squeeing at each new message.

"i luv u ur my favrit writa! Plz keep ritin – cant wait 4 teh nxt 1 !!"

"omg that wuz soooooo good!!1! I luv fethabloom n i wish she wuz me!"

There were one or two nasty ones of course, from some obnoxious people who talked like her English teacher. Still, she thought, that was to be expected. Not everyone could have a talent like hers, and some people were just jealous.

She blinked as the page refreshed and, after a few moments, turned her attention to the new message in the "Reviews" column. She froze. There, in large capital letters, was a chilling message.

"DEAREST SAMANTHA: TURN AROUND SLOWLY AND, PLEASE, TRY NOT TO SCREAM. YOURS, MISS VIOLET AND OPUTF."

Slowly, fearfully, Sam swivelled around in her chair. She choked on her scream as she caught sight of a young girl, dressed in black and carrying a large, evil-looking weapon: a morning star (that she recollected from her years as a _Naruto_ fangirl), only with large and very sharp forks instead of studded balls. Beside the girl was a strange blue creature, only a few heads tall. Both were absolutely furious.

Sam attempted to scream for her mother, who would have been making dinner a few rooms away, but all that came out was a faint "Meep". Funny, she thought, how hard it is to avoid your mother's attention when you've racked up an $800 broadband bill, yet how difficult it is to get said attention when you're about to be decapitated with a morning star. Trembling, she squeezed her eyes tight shut and waited for the end. For a few moments, nothing happened.

After a few moments, Sam's head was still firmly attached to her neck and Sam herself was beginning to convince herself that this was nothing but a particularly weird dream. She reminded herself to never again sit up all night eating jersey caramels.

Sam was snapped rudely out of her reverie by someone poking her none too gently on the shoulder. As she opened her eyes warily, she was greeted by the sight of the strange girl standing approximately one centimetre in front of her, still twirling the evil weapon threateningly. Backing away, she tripped over her chair and landed hard on her rump on the floor. Her antics elicited a brief smirk from her attacker, who then sat down on the chair Sam had just stacked it over and made herself at home. As Sam watched in terror and bewilderment, the girl took a sheet of paper from the blue blob standing to attention at her feet and began to read from it.

"Dear Miss Haddey,

You have been charged with thirteen counts of writing non-parody badfic, creating a Mary Sue, creating more mini-Vamps than anyone would have believed possible, rape of the English language and, in general, screwing over canon until it is beyond recognization or help. You are sentenced to spend a year at the _Olympic Peninsula University of Twilight Fanfiction_ (commonly known as OPUTF) learning why badfic is evil. If you refuse to cooperate, you will be handed over to the Protectors of the Plot Continuum and," the girl looked over the paper and gave Sam a smile that would have sent a charging rhinoceros running for its mummy, "you _really_ don't want that. Unless you'd like to know what your insides look like, which I rather think you don't…"

Sam had, by this time, pulled herself together somewhat and had noticed the fact that she was not dead or even very much hurt (apart from a sore bum from her fall). Some of her bravery had returned from its brief holiday, giving her the strength to do some talking of her own.

"Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my room?" she demanded. Her anger would have been a lot more impressive had her voice not cracked somewhere in the middle, giving away her panic. The other girl did not seem in the least fazed.

"Enrolling, dear."

Sam blinked, and the girl disappeared. In her place was a bunch of stapled sheets, a pen, and a whiff of brimstone.

Back at OPUTF, Miss Violet shuddered and rubbed her temples. Visiting fangirls was always hard: all the stupid began to hurt after a while. The Cliché at her side was taking notes on a small clipboard, muttering frantically as it did so.

"Suethor, grammar-killer, canon-rapist…" the little creature appeared to be having an aneurism.

"Calm down. She'll get her comeuppance soon enough, don't you worry."

Laying the morning-star-like weapon at her feet, she remembered with a grimace how it had come to exist: it was the "forks", created by the fangirls' inability to capitalise the small town's name.

Sam's hand shivered as she picked up the set of papers. Carefully, tentatively, she flipped over the cover page and began to read.

The first page was strangely normal – just the general come-to-our-school spiel thing, she thought, recalling the strange teenager's words as she scanned the page.

"Blah blah blah, recently developed…all new curriculum…blah…taught by Carlisle Cullen, Edward Cullen…WHAT?!"

That can't be right, she thought. Edward Cullen was a character in a book. A beautiful character…but no. Concentrate! She couldn't help herself drifting off into Cullen-filled dreams, even despite all that had happened today. It was instinct; for her, at least.

She was crazy; that explained it. Temporary insanity brought on by too many jersey caramels and cans of Red Bull. And if she was crazy, there was no harm in signing the papers, right? In addition, the tone of the strange girl's voice had nothing short of terrified her. She wasn't sure who the Protectors of the Plot Continuum were, but she was certain that she did not want to find out.

Slowly, she began to fill out the papers. The first questions were a little bizarre; but, in comparison with the rest of the evening's events, relatively tame.

"What is your name?

What is your species? Vampire/Human/Werewolf/Other (please specify)

What is the average wingspan of a swallow?"

Name? Smiling, Sam scribbled down "Featherbloom Miststar". Well, why not? If she was hallucinating, she may as well give herself the name she'd always wanted. Species? Human was way too dull, vampire was still a little ordinary, and who wanted to transform into a big dog at full moon? On a sudden inspiration, Sam circled both 'vampire' and 'human'; she could be immortal and beautiful, without any of that icky blood-sucking bit.

The rest of the questions passed like a blur: Sam vaguely remembered writing about her undying love for Edward Cullen, and then skipping through at least a page of small black text, thinking that she should probably read that fine print. Falling into bed exhausted, she fell asleep before she could register that the forms, and a semester's worth of her clothes, had disappeared into thin air.

One Last A/N: Phew…first chapter up! I am an extremely lazy and distractible writer (and I'm working on a few other fics at the same time) so it could be a while before I update again. In the meantime, please review and let me know if you want your name to be mentioned in upcoming chapters. I'll do my best to fit you in.

Yours, Miss Violet.


	2. Danger Magnet

Chapter 2: Danger Magnet

Disclaimer: Nothing here that you can see,

Does or will belong to me.

A/N: Thanks to my lovely reviewers for all their kind words. Enjoy the new chapter!

-TWILIGHT-

"U r so hott!" The beautiful young man was caressing her hair tenderly as he whispered sweet nothings softly into her ear. She leaned against him, revelling in the feel of his cool, sweet-smelling skin. God, he was gorgeous. God, _she _was gorgeous. Raven-black hair streamed down her back, complementing her snow-white skin perfectly and just kissing her perfectly shaped hips and 'curves in all the right places'.

"Lets play catch and kiss!!1!" her darling Eddie squealed as he danced away from her, over the field. She knew she could catch him: she was a better runner than him (in fact, she was better at everything than anyone, ever), and she sprung lightly after him…

…and landed with a loud and painful thunk on a hard wooden floor.

For a second, Sam simply lay there, willing the pain away. She'd just fallen out of bed. _It doesn't hurt that much, _she told herself.

_Hang on a sec._ It shouldn't hurt that much. The floor of her room was carpeted, her bed wasn't that high off the floor and it had been ages since she'd fallen off – she'd made her Mum buy a King-sized bed when her parents divorced, as a sort of payment.

Her eyes snapped open abruptly, stars dancing in her vision. All she could see was a plain white ceiling – definitely not her room. She sat up slowly, holding the back of her head gingerly, and looked in fear around her. It was small, with two wooden bunk beds (the top bunk of which she had fallen off) and two desks crammed into a square area no more than 4x4m.

It didn't look like a kidnapper's den. But then, you never knew.

The other three bunks, she now saw, were occupied by other girls in various states of awake-ness. One was only just waking up, rubbing her eyes and stretching. Another was crouched over the bottom bunk, poking the girl in it.

The girl was writhing and whimpering, her eyes squeezed shut. She seemed to be having a sort of fit.

"What…" she began, but before she could get any further in her sentence, she bent over as a bolt of excruciating pain surged through her body. Her veins felt like her blood had been replaced by fire. Collapsing to the floor, her head spinning and her stomach churning with pain, she reflected that, although she didn't know much about medicine, she was pretty sure head injuries weren't meant to do this.

She saw vaguely through her pain that the girl who had been leaning over the bunk had turned to her, a panicked expression on her face.

"Oh, God! Not you too!"

Sam moaned as another wave of flame passed over her. "What…what's h-happening?" she groaned.

"What did you put on your form?"

"W-Whattaya mean? What form?"

The girl gave an exasperated sigh. "Someone came to give you a form yesterday, didn't they?"

"Y-yeah."

"What did you put as your species? You put half-vampire, didn't you?"

"Y-auuuahggh!-yeah." Her body spasmed with pain as she tried to think clearly. The girl winced sympathetically.

"You're permanently stuck transforming from a human into a vampire." She stopped and looked at the nonplussed expression on Sam's face. "The vampire venom is running through your veins – that's what hurts so much – but you can't completely transform. You're stuck like this.

"Great," Sam managed to whisper, before sweet unconsciousness claimed her.

-TWILIGHT-

When she woke up again, she was sure she had been dreaming. She was sure of this because, firstly, she didn't hurt any more; secondly, she was certain it was impossible to wake up _from_ a dream into _another_ dream; and thirdly, because the Powers of Comedic Irony were not finished with her yet and enjoyed baiting her with hopeful scenarios.

So naturally, she wasn't dreaming.

She was in a room that resembled her school sick bay, only much bigger and less welcoming. Blue blobs, like the one she had seen yesterday, were pacing the area calmly, administering injections to the twenty-or-so girls lying in beds similar to hers.

"You too, huh?"

Sam rolled over in her bed to face the girl who had spoken. She was around her age or a few years older, with black hair that was very obviously and very badly dyed and a disaffected expression.

"Half-vamp, right? Me too. What's your name?"

Proud to show off her new handle, Sam smugly pronounced, "Featherbloom Miststar. And you are?"

"I Dream of Draco."

"Beg-ya-huh?"

The emo girl rolled her eyes. "My name. I Dream of Draco. Can't help it if I'm a Potter fan, can I?"

"Oh. Right." Sam was, to be honest, more than a little nonplussed, but she was willing to go with it. After all, she loved Harry/Draco too. And there were more important questions that needed answering.

"Do you have any idea where we are?" she asked.

To her surprise, it was not Emo-Girl (as she'd now nicknamed her – I Dream of Draco was too much of a mouthful) who answered, but one of the blue blobs. They really were more scary than anything that was suppose to be cute had the right to be – something about their face (or lack thereof) radiated malice.

"You are at the Olympic Peninsula University of _Twilight_ Fanfiction. Your classes – in which you will be taught the basic skills of fanfiction, which you so sadly lack – will commence in a week. Good luck finding your way around the University until then." With a decidedly nasty grin, it turned to leave.

Emo-Girl looked crestfallen. "You mean we're at _school_?! Ewwww!"

It was yet another, even more evil, voice that responded.

"Yes, dear, you're at school. Will that be a problem?"

Sam turned around, and gasped with recognition. It was the girl from her bedroom, looking in her element and more frightening, if possible, than she had before.

But the Potter fangirl in the next bed had still not caught on. "But what about our parents? You can't kidnap us…they'll be missing us! You'll be locked up, you will! Who are you, anyway?"

With a smile straight from the Antarctic, the girl replied, "Miss Violet, Dean of Students. And no, no-one will be arresting me; once you have completed your two-year degree, you will be returned home around five minutes after you left."

"Oh, yeah? And how're you going to do that? You got a TARDIS somewhere around here?"

"No. You'll find out how in two year's time. Oh, and Id," she addressed one of the blue blobs, "I think we have our first volunteer for the clean-up program." Turning back to the fangirl, she said, "Out of bed, dear." She motioned to Id, and it hurried over and hauled I Dream of Draco unceremoniously out of bed.

Sam waited until she could no longer hear the screams of I Dream or the soft footsteps of Miss Violet before she stopped pretending to sleep. She made the mistake of asking a particularly bad-tempered and foul-mouthed blob if she was free to leave, and received a reply to the effect that yes, she could, although the actual wording involved several profanities in various languages and many insinuations that her mother was capable of extremely obscene and disturbing activities.

Thus advised, she slipped out of her bed and crept down the corridor, on the lookout for any more potentially fearsome things.

Unknowingly, she had been gifted by the fates with the ability to attract fearsome things. And there are an inordinate number of such things in an OFU…

-TWILIGHT-

Author's Note: All done! Sorry for taking so long to update: I've had rolls out old chestnut RL stuff going on. No, seriously. Exams, assignments, music, you name it! I'll try and be quicker in future.

Thanks again for the reviews – I'll try and fit a few more names in next chapter, and sorry times infinity to I Dream of Draco, who is almost certainly a lovely girl who is not emo at all. Don't kill me, I Dream: you did say I could use your penname!

Enjoy!

Yours, Miss Violet.

P.S. I should probably put in a mini-disclaimer to the effect that I don't own Doctor Who or the TARDIS (they belong to Russell T. Davies and the BBC), although I am pissing myself with excitement waiting for the finale in about 70 minutes.


End file.
